


Loving the way...

by derekthealpha



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Alpha Derek Hale, Derek's Loft, Draeden, F/M, Imagines, Romance, Teen Wolf
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-18 18:26:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10622577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/derekthealpha/pseuds/derekthealpha
Summary: Derek finds himself falling for Braeden. Yep, the mercenary. You know, someone who KILLS people for money.





	1. A list...

It just felt so right.   
Everything fell into place whenever Derek laid eyes on Braedon.   
All of his worries, all of his pain disappeared when they touched.   
And his aching heart was transformed by something Derek hadn’t felt in a long time.   
Love.  
Loving the way she smiled; smug, with her lips pressed together and her eyes twinkling with mischief.   
Loving the way she walked; purposeful, on a mission as she swung her hips with confidence.  
Loving the way she cried; ashamed at first, but as time passed falling completely vulnerable into his arms, NEEDING him to hold her close.  
Loving the way she touched him; passionate and desperate, as whenever they parted, she felt the same agony that he did.   
Derek was relentlessly yearning for her to be in his arms.  
Braeden was constantly craving his warmth.  
And they were both unintentionally yet undoubtedly falling in love.  
When they were together, everything felt right.


	2. Tea and Matching Pillows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where the story truly begins...

Chapter 1 - Derek’s P.O.V

My eyes followed Braeden as she padded across the loft in a sleepy, stumbling manner which was so unlike her own that I just couldn’t help but stare. You might be wondering why the hell she was in my loft, because to be honest, I was wondering the exact same thing. While she was trying to capture Kate, I had offered her space in my loft because… I wanted to protect my investment. For some reason, I had done this not realising that I would most definitely have to associate with a person who was ALSO living in the open-planned apartment. I mean, yeah, I had offered it to her, I just never expected her to say “Hale yeah!” and plonk herself down on the couch.

Anyway, it was so strange seeing Braeden let her guard crumble to the ground and look so… comfortable. She was dressed in one of my own t-shirts, which was so ridiculously oversized on her small frame, as well as a pair of my socks which, although were crumpled, still reached halfway up her shins. Braeden’s tousled and damp hair was draped lazily over her shoulders and the remainder of her eyeliner which hadn’t come off in the shower sat blurred around her eyes.

I softly smiled to myself while I watched as Braeden clasped a mug in her hands, which was filled with boiling water infused with ginger. She simultaneously blew with pursed lips at the steam which was drifting up into her own face. She looked so innocent, which although was weird to see on her, wasn’t a bad look either. The innocence made her appear calm and at peace, which was something that I kind of wanted for her in some way. Let’s be real, her life kind of sucks. 

That was one similarity between us- our lives both kind of, actually, no screw that – our lives really sucked. I considered the realisation as my mind returned to focus on her actions.  
Every one of her features was relaxed as she approached the coffee table and plucked a lemon from the bowl which was sat upon it.   
Again, she looked so harmless that only when she reached a hand under the t-shirt and slid a knife out of a strap secured around her waist that I remembered she was a mercenary. You know, a professional killer. Totally harmless, right?

I shook my head, trying to clear the mindset that she was anything but a person who killed for money out of my mind, while she used her knife to half the lemon and added the final ingredient to her tea.   
I waited for her to sheath her knife (which she did, instead of trying to kill me) (not that the thought of her suddenly viciously attacking me with her knife popped into my head at all) and then turn around, clutching her mug in both hands, all sleepy harmlessness returning as she carefully slid over to the bed. Her generally fierce, brown eyes softened as she fixated them on the level of her tea as it kissed the rim of the mug. 

I averted my eyes back over to the TV, which was currently fixed on a ‘News from India’ channel, before then glancing up at Braeden when she approached the bed. “Wow, what a badass.” I mocked jokingly, gesturing to the tea that was clamped in her hands.   
Braeden rolled her eyes, “Ha. Ha,” she said sarcastically, “Says the big, bad alpha, werewolf who has matching quilt and pillow sets.” Braeden smirked as she sipped her tea, raising her eyebrows at me in challenge over the rim of the mug. 

I rolled my eyes and chucked one of my pillows (look - they came in a set, ok!) at Braeden, grinning at the gentle thump it made as it harmlessly bounced off her hip and landed back on the bed.   
“Dude! Tea!” she complained, a grin playing at her lips while she hurled the pillow back at me in mock annoyance. I easily caught the pillow (I love my werewolf reflexes…) and set it neatly back on the bed, receiving a raised eyebrow from Braeden. “Shut up.” I retaliated, rolling my eyes. 

She could hurl pillows at me forever, but whether they would do any damage, or yet, actually hit me was the question.

Braeden took another sip of her tea and lowered herself down on the bed, “This must be your favourite TV show!” her voice dripped with sarcasm. I glanced at the television which was still on the Indian News and nodded sarcastically. “Only the very best.”

Braeden swiped the remote from my hand and switched through the channels, landing on some sort of fantasy movie which was honestly kind of weird. I mean, the werewolves in that thing were completely unrealistic- and so were the sparkling vampires. 

We watched it for about 10 minutes before we both couldn’t handle it anymore, turning to face each other, mirroring a pained expression. “Let’s change it,” we said in unison, before skipping through some more channels in an attempt to find a show with something better than werewolves spending their entire lives running around and pushing each other off cliffs.   
While Braeden flicked through the different channels, I tried to keep my eyes fixed on the TV screen, or basically tried to think about anything other than the fact that she was lying REALLY close next to me and also didn’t seem like a psychopath, like certain women from my past. 

Wow. My standards are incredibly high. 

“This looks good…” The sound of Braeden’s voice dragged me out of my thoughts as I glanced back up at the TV screen.   
“What’s it called?”   
“Supernatural.”  
“Huh.”

Braeden set the remote down and lay back, her tea resting against her flat stomach.   
The only thing I could think about during the entire show was “what the hell is going on”.   
Seriously, it was so ridiculously confusing that my mind wandered off- and let’s be real, when MY mind wanders off, it can’t go anywhere nice. Or happy. Or good. Or just relatively not painful. 

‘I’m so glad Peter ran off to another place instead staying at the loft.   
Just like he abandoned my family when they were set alight.  
And tortured.  
And burned to death.  
By Scott’s girlfriend’s family.  
Who have spent a pretty freaking big portion of their lives trying to kill my kind. But now they’re not trying to kill me, it’s just a bond of mutual hate.  
Speaking of hate, I HATE Deucalion.   
And Jennifer, my crazy ex-girlfriend.   
Did I mention she was crazy?’

See what I mean?

I glanced back up at the screen and noticed that the credits were already rolling, meaning I had missed 90% of the show. I was about to ask Braeden what the show had actually been about but when I turned to face her she was completely asleep. Her hair was fanned out around her head and her face was nestled amongst the sheets. It was kind of adorable.  
Her chest heaved up and down at a slow, steady pace in time with her heartbeat, and her eyes were lightly closed, relaxed and not squeezed shut like they would be if she was having a nightmare. Her lips were slightly parted and were relaxing into what wasn’t a smile, but a look of content, as if she wasn’t someone who went around murdering people for money. 

Right. There was that factor that I had once again forgotten about. 

I reluctantly lifted myself slowly off of the bed and grabbed one of the pillows, before pacing cautiously over to the TV and turning it off. The loft was left in utter darkness, the only source of light being my eyes which were glowing red in order for me to see in the dark.  
I strode over to my couch and plonked myself down on it, pushing the pillow behind my head and dragging a blanket that was thrown over the side of the couch on top of me.  
The only sound filling my ears was the reassuring and steady thump of her heartbeat. I turned over on the couch, attempting to rid the thought from my mind. 

She kills people. Professionally.

I shoved my face into the pillow, trying to block out the comforting sound of her constant breathing. 

You like being alone.

The pillow muffled my groan as I threw the blanket over my head.

This is stupid.

And with that, I was lulled into the best sleep I had in years.

Good one, Derek…


	3. Cocoon of Cotton Covers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Braeden wakes up in the Loft and can't help thinking that maybe this isn't too bad of a place to wake up in.   
> Or too bad of a person to wake up to...

Braeden’s P.O.V

I had been swinging in and out of consciousness for a while now, feeling utter exhaustion even after the most amazing sleep ever. To be honest I hadn’t even noticed that I was not, in fact, dreaming when I ‘woke up’ in Derek freaking Hale’s loft.   
What was even more disturbing was the fact that I was nestled amongst the sheets in his bed, completely relaxed and barely even thinking about all the crap that was going on in my life.   
And by ‘crap’ I mean being hired by Deucalion – although that didn’t end up being too bad, after all I was hired to save Derek, not end mankind or anything like that. But I’m not finished. Being hired by both the Calavera’s and Derek to capture Kate was risky. Really risky. I mean, getting into trouble with the Calavera’s truly didn’t generally end well for people, it was more like the people were well and truly ended.  
Oh, NOW I’m thinking about all the crap going on in my life.   
My eyes fluttered open once again, revealing the loft - with a ridiculous amount of light streaming through the huge windows. How does Derek survive this invasion every day? I felt like a vampire as I hissed at the sun, groaning and lifting the sheets over my head. I rolled over, squishing my face deeper into the pillow and subconsciously inhaling the intoxicating scent that was trapped within the sheets. A mix of masculinity, peppermint and wood filled my lungs and I squeezed my eyes shut, guiltily relishing the scent. It was addictive and dangerous, every breath feeling like I was further and further at the risk of never escaping the torrent of sheets that cocooned me.   
The sound of cupboards and drawers being opened and shut in the kitchen brought me spiralling back into reality.   
And the reality was that I was pretty much high on Derek.  
Either that or I was sniffing him, like a stalker. Take your pick.  
I let out another groan at my hopeless mind and screwed up life.   
“You are most definitely not a morning person.”  
Derek’s voice filled the loft, the bass echoing off the walls as he called to me from the kitchen. I heard him put down a plate on the kitchen bench and make his way over to me.   
His voice called from behind the corner, “You decent?”  
I smirked, propping myself up on the bed, in some sort of lazy ‘cobra’ yoga position, “Me? A decent person? Nope.” I flung my head back to face Derek as he turned the corner, a grin pulling at the corners of his lips and his eyes turning in an overly exaggerated eye roll. I flicked a piece of hair off my face, “Oh come on, that was a good one…”  
Derek expertly raised one eyebrow, crossing his arms in front of him. “Oh, was that a joke?”  
I huffed at him and rolled over, sitting up and facing him while the sheets began to fall off my body. Derek sat on the corner of the double bed, his back to me. “So, what’s the plan for today?” His gruff voice filled the loft once again.   
I attempted to run a hand through my knotted hair, only reaching a quarter of the length before my fingers got stuck, stubbornly refusing to work through the tangles without ripping my hair out. I let out a sigh. “I don’t know. I’ve looked everywhere for Kate and there’s barely any leads.”  
Derek was looking over his shoulder, eyebrows furrowed together in disappointment for a moment, before his features went blank. “You didn’t really answer my question.” He said jokingly.   
“Well, I think I’m going to start with a shower. My body is so not awake at –“10:30?” Derek interrupted, raising his eyebrows. “Oh my god I slept in that much? Why didn’t you wake me?” I asked with surprise. It’s not like he was paying me to sleep- I had to look for Kate and find her if I wanted any money at all.   
Derek shrugged, his broad shoulders exaggerating the minor move, “I don’t know, you looked so,” he coughed, “You looked like you needed it.”   
I raised an eyebrow at him. “Hey! I’m just protecting my investment!” He said, throwing his hands up declaring his innocence. I rolled my eyes, “Well I’m gonna have a shower because it doesn’t take a werewolf nose to tell that I stink.”   
I pushed the sheets off my body and tumbling clumsily off the bed. I straightened up and pulled the t-shirt back over my butt, as it gathered itself around my waist (revealing my black Target underwear) as I had slid (not so gracefully) off the bed.   
Ignoring Derek’s cough, I strode over to the staircase, swinging my hips as I climbed the steps. I stopped halfway, “You coming or not?”  
Derek turned bright red and coughed, his eyebrows reaching so high they were almost part of his hair line. “Wh-what?” He squeaked, coughing again.  
What is he even talking about? I shrugged, “Well I don’t know where the shower is? What were you-” I was cut short with realisation. I squinted, shaking my head. “Oh my god…you nasty…” I turned around to avoid him seeing my reddened cheeks, “I’ll find it myself.”

Derek’s P.O.V  
The sound of the water hitting skin filled my ears, along with a faint sigh from Braeden. Braeden, Braeden, Braeden.   
She was constantly invading my mind, my senses. It had only been a day and the loft was already reeking of Braeden’s sweet cinnamon scent. It had only been a day and whenever Braeden wasn’t directly next to me, I found myself thinking of her. Something was wrong with me. It must be.   
I tried to shut out the soft sounds of Braeden’s sighs as I grabbed some workout clothes. I needed to clear my mind, and to be honest, I had nothing better to do.   
Once I was fully dressed, I scrawled a quick note saying that I would be back in an hour, set it on the bed (because let’s face it, Braeden was probably going to go straight back to sleep) and closed the door behind me as I exited the loft. I put my earphones in, started the music and jogged and jogged and jogged.   
Through the bustling streets, past BHHS, across the Lacrosse Field and through the woods. Until I was met with something I didn’t expect at all.   
I pulled my earphones out, the music still audible as it faintly sounded out of the speakers, and gazed up at the wrecked house in front of me.   
The door was still scratched up, the sign from the Alpha Pack still marking it; and just this almost made me turn around. But the familiarity of this dump…it was somewhat welcoming. I strode up to the door, kicked it open and went inside.   
Sections of darkness and light were speckled around the room that I knew so well, and the furniture was completely wrecked. Like even more so than before when I lived here.   
I shuddered, barely believing that I legit lived in this place after my parents died. “Why did I stay here?” I asked, my voice echoing off the wooden panelling.   
It really was a dump, and I could smell the mould that was edging itself along the wood. This was completely unliveable, and yet I still stayed here.  
Why?  
As I put my earphones in and got to work, hauling myself up on the wooden panel that’s only purpose for me was a chin-up bar, I realised I already knew the answer.


End file.
